


In The Darkness (You Shine)

by skysedge



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Angst, Coming of Age, Dysfunctional Family, Family Feels, Gen, Growing Up, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:00:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23395894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skysedge/pseuds/skysedge
Summary: He’s always said that new-born babies are ugly, like little wrinkled old men. She wriggles in her sleep, one tiny hand raising and brushing against his shirt. She’s not ugly at all, he thinks. He’s never seen anything so beautiful.“Hello, Marnie,” he says. “I’m your big brother.”
Relationships: Mary | Marnie & Nezu | Piers
Comments: 13
Kudos: 74





	In The Darkness (You Shine)

**Author's Note:**

> I just have a lot of feelings about these two good kids, okay? /lays down

His baby sister is born on a spring afternoon .

When he’s allowed to enter the room for the first time, he’s too preoccupied with how numb his ass is from sitting on the metal chair in the hallway to prepare himself. As soon as the door shuts behind him his father places a small bundle in his arms and then goes back to arguing with the orderly about something stupid. His mother is already shouting at another nurse. His parents are the same as alwaysl. It’s almost like they’ve just come in for a blood test, something inconsequential.

In his arms the bundle stirs. He looks down for the first time at the tiny human that’s laying there. He’s always said that new-born babies are ugly, like little wrinkled old men. 

“What’s her name?” he asks.

His mother takes a break from shouting just long enough to answer.

“Marnie. Don’t drop her.”

“I won’t.”

She wriggles in her sleep, one tiny hand raising and brushing against his shirt. She’s not ugly at all, he thinks. He’s never seen anything so beautiful.

“Hello, Marnie,” he says, tears forming unnoticed at the corner of his eyes. “I’m your big brother.”

At that moment, his whole world  changes.

At twelve years old the narrow alley behind his parent’s house is Piers' best kept secret. It’s here, behind a graffiti covered dumpster, that he hides his Pokémon trainer’s uniform whenever he goes out to meet his friends. 

He tells his parents that he spends the evenings after school battling. He’s battling something all right, something he doesn’t yet have a name for, but his  Zigzagoon stays sleeping at his feet while the fights are going on. He doesn’t want that life, he doesn’t care about credentials or success. The gym challenge means nothing to him. Instead he sits on park benches and listens to metal on someone else’s boombox, he talks about music and anger, he learns the word ‘nihilism’ and what it means. He’d stay out forever if he could. 

But he can’t, and he’s later back than usual. He changes back into his uniform in a panic, shoving his torn jeans and band shirt into their place and fumbling the laces for his trainers. He smells like stale smoke and beer, nothing a quick spray of a deodorant won’t fix, and he’s planning on stashing a pack of mints here too for the day he inevitably starts smoking himself. 

Dressed and spritzed, he  smooths his hair as best he can with his hands and  sprints around to the front door. His parents are in the hall when he bursts in.

“Sorry!” he gasps. “We had to tie-breaker but I ran all the way from the-"

“ You’ve made us late.” 

“Watch your sister. She needs  changing.”

Same old mum and dad. They bustle past him and slam the door behind them, leaving him panting for breath in the hall. He doesn’t know where they’re going. He doesn’t much care. They’re always going  _ somewhere.  _ He sees more of their backs than their faces these days. Once he gets his breath back, a scowl has settled across his features. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and forces a smile, index fingers at the corners of his mouth, and then lets it fall.

Whatever. He doesn’t need his parents around anyway. He’d be just fine if they never came home. Well, he would be, if he was alone in the house. The loud crying of his sister from the next room reminds him that he’s not and he hurries over to check on her. As soon as he enters the room his breath leaves him in a dejected sigh.

“Marnie...”

It’s chaos. His mother’s clothes left dumped all over the room. Empty unwashed plates from dinner. Toys strewn across the floor. Marnie’s covered in her own food, clumps of it stuck in her choppy hair, and she’s pulling at it and wailing. Piers wants to wail too. 

_ It’s not her fault. _

He repeats it to himself as he tidies and cleans, as he lays out the changing mat and sets to work. Christ, it’s disgusting. She’s three, she should be potty trained by now. He’s been  _ trying  _ but he has to go to school and for ‘battles’ and leaving her here each day is a wrench, every morning worse than the last. He’s dreamed about just taking her and running somewhere, anywhere. It’s not worth the risk of being caught. Maybe they’ll treat her better, when she’s older. He wants to believe it.

By the time he’s finished, he’s exhausted. A cursory glance in the kitchen shows a cold plate of food left on the side for him, a fly buzzing over it. It’s stupid but it’s the final straw. He stomps back to the living room and throws himself on the sofa, cursing his parents with every bad word he knows.

He doesn’t know why they bothered having children. They clearly don’t give a damn about either of them. He presses the heels of his palms to his eyes, he  _ won’t  _ cry about this again, but the burning is in his throat and lungs and its far more damaging than any cigarette. He has half a mind to take his clothes and his guitar and leave, live in the damn dumpster, it can’t be any worse than this.

“Pi-ah?”

There’s a tug on his sleeve. He opens his eyes to see Marnie holding onto the edge of the sofa with one chubby fist and pulling at him with the other. She hasn’t got the hang of his name yet, but she’s trying. She’d be learning to talk a lot faster if their parents put any effort in. She grins as he meets her gaze.

“Pi-ah! Pi-ah!”

None of this is her fault. His eyes stop burning as he reaches down and picks her up, sets her on his chest and jiggles her until she’s laughing.

“Love you,” he says, wincing as a flailing baby fist grabs hold of his hair and  tugs. “Make your first real sentence ‘I love Piers' and I’ll let you pull my hair whenever you want. I’ll even grow it out.”

She giggles and tugs harder, but he thinks she understands.

He doesn’t cut his hair again until it reaches past his waist. 

“Ugh, Piers, who said you could bring your baby sister along?”

From his spot on an upturned garbage can, Piers raises his eyes from the cigarette he’s been trying to roll out of dog ends to see what his friends are complaining about. They’re a whole two streets over from his house plenty far away to smoke and play music and drink beers bought by someone’s older brother. Two streets and a world away from the house he’s grown up in and from his sister.

“ Whatcha doing?”

And yet, here she is. Six years old and in one of his old t-shirts, her hair in two bunches on top of her head.  Morpeko sits at her feet. She’s been braver with it around. Today, maybe too brave. Piers blinks at her stupidly, sure he’s hallucinating.

“Oi Piers, get rid of her!”

“Yeah, kids can’t play here!”

It’s stupid but he can’t move. Things aren’t meant to overlap like this. At home he’s a doting big brother, a reluctant but decent trainer, someone who at least tries to be a decent human being. Out here he’s a rebel, a free-spirit, he writes songs about dying and laughs the lyrics off. Marnie isn’t meant to see this. She’s too good.

“Piers?” she asks, taking a few steps closer. Broken glass crunches under her pink sneakers. “Are you smoking like people on the telly?”

He looks down at the pathetic excuse for a cigarette in his hands, ignoring the way his friends laugh.

“Uh. Yeah. You need to-”

“Why?”

_ Why? _ No one has ever asked before. Now, looking into her bright and curious eyes that contain no traces of judgement whatsoever, he realises he doesn’t have a proper answer.

“ ’cause I want to,” he says.

“Yeeeah,” Marnie says slowly. “But, like, why?”

His friends are roaring by this point and it’s pissing him off. What right do they have to laugh? Could they give an answer that’s better? He’s out here because it’s what he wants to do, what his heart wants, not the false life he’s living for his parents. This is who he really is. 

One of his friends lights up and a plume of smoke drifts towards Marnie. Piers moves without thinking, lifting her up onto his hip and beginning to walk home without a word. 

“Can I play too?” Marnie asks. 

“Yeah,” he says, giving her a smile. “But I’m bored of that game. Let’s play something else.”

He doesn’t know who he wants to be. Not really. But whoever he’s going to become, he’s not going to risk his sister’s health. She’s much, much too good.

“Here I come!”

It’s a sunny Sunday afternoon and for the first time in his life, Piers is enjoying being a Pokémon trainer. At the other end of the pitch, Marnie shoots him a fierce grin and launches her second  Pokéball into the air. Being a step behind only makes her more determined, more energised. It’s an attitude that’s infectious.

“Bring your worst!” he calls back. “M’not gonna go easy on you!”

They’ve been training together, on and off, for years. Recently she’s started taking it seriously. It’s made Piers realise how little effort he’d been putting in himself. But the last few months they’ve been going at it hard. As soon as she’s out of school they meet up in the park and get to work, battling until late in the evening. It’s been weeks since either of them have seen their parents for longer than a few minutes. He’s thrilled that Marnie cares as little as he does. She has friends and she’s doing great in school; she’s not like him at  _ all  _ and he’s so glad of it.

He’s been distracted by his thoughts and before he can stop it, he’s a Pokémon down. He recalls his beaten  Obstagoon and gives Marnie a sheepish smile.

“I’m no good at this,” he says.

“Don’t be a  pillock ,” she says  fimly . “You’re  gonna be a gym leader, right? Need me to beat some confidence into ya?”

“I don’t...”

No. He  _ didn’t  _ want to be a gym leader. But she seems so proud whenever she mentions it, so excited, that letting her down now would be impossible. His parents always wanted that role for him for acclaim. Marnie wants him to succeed because...he doesn’t know. But something else. Something better. He doesn’t look the part and he can’t talk the talk but for her, he’ll do it. For her, he’d move the earth.

“I don’t need a beatin’,” he finished, managing a grin. “I’ll just have to show you how good I am instead, yeah?”

He wins every battle that afternoon. For the first time he can remember, the future seems certain and bright.

Marnie cries the day he becomes  Spikemuth’s gym leader, not that she’ll ever admit it. It’s the proudest he’s ever felt. And so, of course, it doesn’t last.

Three years into his career, Piers realises he’s made a terrible mistake.

It starts slowly. Offhand comments from challengers about his appearance or his attitude. People comparing his small, unorthodox gym to distant  Wyndon with smirks behind their hands. And then the storm that is  _ dynamaxing _ _ ,  _ the constant complaints from challengers, the way they just refuse to understand that he  _ likes  _ it here, that he’s not going to move for anyone, that you can have a good battle without needing to supersize your goddamn  Pokémon .

For a while, he can deal with it. He spends his free time writing songs, performing to small local crowds. Success in this area comes easily, naturally, like nothing else ever has. It’s enough to keep him stable for a time, stress relief that eases the ache. 

But it doesn’t let up. Over time, less and less people come to challenge  him and their comments become worse and worse. The town’s a state, too quiet by half, and people like his parents move away in search of somewhere more successful. Marnie stays, though. Just like him, she says that  Spikemuth is a part of her, for better or worse. And  so he stays and he tries but each day is harder than the last and something has to give.

When it does, it does so with a crash.

His twenty-first birthday. After the party, too much alcohol in his system and too much noise in his brain. He doesn’t want to die. He just wants to stop existing, just for a while. What he doesn’t want is for Marnie to find him, slumped on the bathroom floor with a bloodied kitchen knife in hand. But of course she comes looking when she can’t find him. 

“You’re too good,” he’s mumbling as she crouches beside him and cleans him up. “Much too good. Without you I’d...”

“I’m not  goin ’ anywhere,” she tells him, wrapping a bandage around his arm and leaning up to kiss his cheek. 

She’s fourteen now, with as much sass and style as he had always wanted but with none of his doubts or flaws. It’s not his baby sister but a strong girl who helps him to his feet and leads him to his bed. She hasn’t asked why things have ended up this way. He tells her anyway.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he murmurs as he tumbles onto the mattress. “I’m a shit gym leader. I’d be better off on th’stage an’ you know it.”

“Now whoever gave you the stupid idea that you can only be one?” she says, sitting beside him and tugging at his hair. “Huh? Mum and dad? Since when did you care what they think? You’re a good gym leader. There  ain’t no other gym like yours.  So you don’t need to play by anyone else’s rules, right?”

It sounds so simple, when she says it like that. He opens his mouth a few times but can’t find his voice.

_ I’d be lost without you. _

_ “ _ My big bro,” Marnie says proudly. “The  rockstar gym leader. Now stop playin’ silly buggers and give me a smile.”

She places her index fingers against her mouth and hitches up a smile, as she had copied from him so long ago. He gives her a smile back. It’s weak but true.

Time to stop being an idiot. She has her own dreams to follow. When she’s done, maybe she’ll be ready to take his place.

When she sets off on her gym challenge, he gets the team to yell so loud that dust is shaken loose from the rafters and windowpanes. 

“I’m  gonna keep the gym warm for her,” he tells them once she’s gone. “Until she gets back.”

“But she’s  gonna win, right Piers?”

“Damn right she is!” he  shouts and his enthusiasm is enough to stop the questions and to stop anyone realising that he’s not making any sense at all. 

He sends gangs after her to cheer her on, organises parties in her honour, places  all the emphasis on her. For the first time in a while he can breathe easy. 

It’s a  long few months . Her video calls each evening are what keeps him going. With each victory she shines a little brighter. He wonders if her radiance will burn him up in the end.

When it’s finally his turn to battle her, he gives it his all. Getting beaten by her for the first time is proudest moment of his life. 

From then on, the world is a whirlwind of motion and changes in which Marnie is the only constant.

There are battles to be fought, victories to be won and losses to be suffered, people to meet and friends to make. He’s there to support her in the semi-finals and able to sincerely express his condolences that she doesn’t make it. His wildest dreams come true when she happily accepts the gym from him and he’s finally  _ free.  _ He gets to sing and perform, to throw himself headfirst into what he loves, and he gets to be quietly smug when the  dynamax obsessed idiots in the cities make a mess of everything. 

It’s a fresh start. A new life. He watches her take to her new job with ease and in her success can finally begin to see his own.

He's made it. He’s come a long way from cold dinners and closed doors. All the way from that dumpster in the alley to a brightly lit stage in  Wyndon , a concert larger than any he’s ever held. As he takes to the stage to a maelstrom of  cheers he can see familiar faces in the front row. All those people he’s worked beside for years but held at arm’s length, all of them cheering. Marnie’s in the  center , Gloria and Hop on each side, holding their hands and raising them aloft with the light of the brightest stars in her eyes. It’s embarrassing, seeing all these people, but he thinks he’s fine with that. He’s just got to show them what he’s made of, right?

The music starts and his doubts melt away. This is who he’s meant to be.

“This goes out to a beautiful young lady,” he says, voice booming from the mic. There are fans screaming his name but for now he keeps his eyes on Marnie. “I wouldn’t be here without her. Love you, sis.”

They both cry after the show. They vow to keep it a secret.


End file.
